


Plump

by photonromance



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Belly Kink, Confessions, M/M, Pregnancy Kink, sweet talk, tummy love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-22
Updated: 2015-01-22
Packaged: 2018-03-08 14:11:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3212066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/photonromance/pseuds/photonromance
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John doesn't mean to become attracted to Harold's... curves. But he is. Harold doesn't see the appeal and John will do anything, even loose a secret, to prove to Harold he's more than what he sees.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Plump

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文 available: [Plum - Chinese Translation](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3560222) by [CurlyCurly](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CurlyCurly/pseuds/CurlyCurly), [photonromance](https://archiveofourown.org/users/photonromance/pseuds/photonromance)



> There is no actual Mpreg in this fic. The fact that John would like to have children is mentioned. The idea that he loves Harold's tummy is related and the (decidedly impossible) idea that he would be glad to have John's child is stated. Other than that, standard Tummy Love fic, please enjoy!

At first, John is worried Harold will be offended.

He doesn't mean to become fixated, he would _never_ want to make Harold uncomfortable, but he is kind of obsessed and it's hard to pretend he doesn't love it when they're together. When he rides Harold especially, John likes to splay his palms over Harold's little belly as he rolls his hips. 

And, though his fantasy may seem otherwise, it's not because it's feminine in any way. Harold's chest is dusted in soft, silvering hair and John likes to pull at it gently around his nipples just for the sounds it draws from him. Harold is plainly masculine. He's also soft at the hips and his belly is plump and John adores it. 

When he's using his mouth, he'll divert when he knows Harold is close just to press kisses into the softness. Maybe he sinks in his teeth sometimes, gently, just enough to print the pattern of his mouth in faint red lines. More than once, he's suckled dark little bruises into the skin. 

There's no reason why. No aha moment where John realized he loved the roundness under the hard edges of Harold's suits. He just does. And sometimes, when he's particularly indulgent, John has a favorite fantasy. 

It's not fair, not really, to apply to the warm moments they steal curled together without telling Harold. Without his consent. But what if Harold can't understand? He's a genius, but John has seen perfectly intelligent people lash out at lesser offenses. So John keeps his secret to himself, rarely savors it, but continues to nurture it in the dark when he's most lonely. 

Until Harold figures out he's hiding something.

John is cuddled up to his side, drowsy with afterglow and tracing his fingers idly over Harold's tummy. He's mostly sure his boss is asleep so when Harold speaks, it startles him. 

"What are you thinking?" It's posed innocently, Harold is half asleep himself and he doesn't mean it intrusively. 

"About how beautiful you are." John tells him, fingers still moving. Harold snorts a laugh. "I am." John says, sitting up a little to meet his eyes, one hand still splayed on his belly, "I think you're gorgeous." 

Harold smiles softly and strokes back John's hair, damp with sweat. "I believe you believe that." He says, shifting to stroke sharp cheekbones. 

"Explain." John is frowning now, fully awake. 

"A thirsting man will find even muddy water the sweetest drink he's known." There's an edge of sadness to his tone, like... No, John won't have him believing that.

"You think I chose you because I was thirsty?" John rumbles, leaning in to brace over Harold.

"John, I know-"

"You don't know me as well as you think,Mr. Finch." He murmurs, leaning in to kiss Harold, just a ghost of pressure before moving down. He presses his open mouth over the edge of Harold's jaw, just where the flesh curves rather than cuts. Down he goes, the impression of the collar bone under a thin layer of softness.

"I think you're gorgeous." He breathes into Harold's sternum and the smattering of hair there. He palms the curve of Harold's tummy, squeezing as he kisses his way down.

"I think you're perfectly healthy. And look," John drops his mouth to bite lightly at the little swell, "You've got this little belly, this little extra bit for me. And just for me. When you get all buttoned up in your nice suits, all I have to do is think about the softness you have inside all of that to want you over the nearest table."

Harold shivers and his cock makes a valiant effort to rise. John cups him encouragingly and slides his other hand to squeeze his hip. "Your ass is nice and ripe and your hips are so plump. Look at how you fill up my hands like I was made for you."

John follows his words with kisses, pressing his mouth against the little dips where the hipbone would rise. It's likely too soon to try for another orgasm, but Harold is flushed and looks willing to try.

"You're beautiful." John sighs, nuzzling into the faint scars along the inside of one plump thigh, "I love the way you are."

Harold's blush is darling, his pupils blown wide. "John," he breathes, "I- That's-"

John has never heard him stammer like that. It's a good look on him, breathless confusion blended with adoration.

"I love you." John tells him softly, a confession, "I love everything about you. Your fluffy hair and round little stomach and the way you manage your limp when you're trying to hurry someone along." He leans down for a kiss, a hunger low in his belly.

His hand curves again over Harold's tum, protective and maybe a little possessive. The little voice that growls _mine_ is the same one that feeds John's dark fantasy. When he pulls back, he feels guilty, spoiling the moment with that thought.

Harold is watching him now, wide eyed and awed. He notices. Of course he does. 

When John looks away, he catches John's chin and draws him back for another kiss, softer. "There's something else." He says, matter of fact, as he searches John's face. His glasses are on the table beside his pillow but John knows he's being read just as clearly as if he had them. "There's more you want to say. I want to believe you, I do." He pauses and John watches his pink little tongue flick across his bottom lip. "But what are you hiding?" 

What can he do? Betray Harold's confidence by refusing? Or betray him with the thoughts he's has been harboring? 

John takes Harold's hand from his cheek and kisses his fingers. He deserves to know. Harold deserves so much more, but right now, it's all John can give. He breathes deeply and cups Harold's hand to his cheek lightly. He closes his eyes and opens his mouth,

"I... I like to imagine that... That you... That I... I imagine you carrying my child."

The silence that follows stops John's heart. Harold's hand hasn't moved, still holding his jaw gently. There is no sound around them to measure the passing of time so he can't fathom how long it is before he dares to look.

Harold is smiling. It's sort of distant, his gaze unfocused for a moment before he draws John down to kiss the ragged remains of his breath away. "Would that I could." He breathes against John's mouth, "Would that I could, my love."

"You don't-" It's John's turn to be speechless, "You aren't upset?"

"I know you would like to have children of your own." Harold explains, as though it were very simple, "You have just expressed to me how... attractive you find me, physically. I can see how these things may interconnect."

"But it's... not..."

Harold hushes him. "I can think of nothing I would find more erotic than you desperate to have me full of child for you." He murmurs, drawing one of John's hands back down to his cock, now dripping patiently against the tummy John loves so much. "In fact I might like to have that. Perhaps now, Mr. Reese?"

John grins and gives Harold a squeeze, just enough to make him gasp. "I would be pleased to provide a demonstration, Mr. Finch."


End file.
